


In A Cycle of Corruption

by Seeryvi



Category: Forgotton Anne (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Behold Anne’s Secret Third Choice, Friendship, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, I will update tags as I go I guess, I’m going to create all these Character tags watch me, No Smut, Not in my writing at least, Play the game, Post-Canon, Whump, i really don’t know, no beta we die like men, or whatever really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:27:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25641328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seeryvi/pseuds/Seeryvi
Summary: Instead of sacrificing herself or going through the Bridge to the Ether, the Caretaker fulfills Anne’s greatest wish of staying, among other things to repent for what Bonku and she had done wrong over all these years. Yet a wish as big as hers—staying alive despite all odds—requires a price of unknown dimensions.(If you don’t know me yet, I love writing Angst! Take a seat and suit up!)(If I don’t abandon this (bc my interests can change very quickly) I might write two Endings or something. So that you guys can have a happy Ending but I can still write a bad one.)Updates whenever I write something new?
Relationships: Anne&Fig, Anne/Fig
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. A Dangerous Decision

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey!  
> This Fanfiction exists only because I got inspired while reading _”A Wish Fulfilled” _by _Falkyns_Flight _(I still don’t quite understand how Ao3 works with tagging and stuff? Forgive me!____
> 
> ____The ‘Wish’ idea just did it for me—but I’ll take it in a different direction, don’t worry! (See the _totally _not obvious foreshadowing in the beginning)....___ _ _ _
> 
> ______I guess though when you’re in the Forgotton Anne Fandom you’ve already read that one! Good for you! ;)_ _ _ _ _ _
> 
> ______Either way, this Fandom needs more love and I’m going to try to give as much as I can before my brain makes me stop. Don’t ask, I don’t know._ _ _ _ _ _

If there was one thing not a single soul ever wanted to happen, it was becoming the one thing you feared being the most. All your life you worked on being better, being different. Avoiding everything the other thing ever was and being everything it never could be. If you were lucky there were people around you, supporting you. Guiding you in the right direction. If you were lucky you had the means to listen, the heart to be touched, the mind to follow.

But if you didn’t have the chance? If the chance was robbed from you, used as a price for the one wish you desired most? If such a thing was indeed the case?

Then everything was lost.

——————

The situation had begun to spiral out of control a long time ago. The loud noises of struggles and fights and machinery waiting to be used after being activated with the simple touch of a hand almost managed to completely drown out her inner voice as her eyes rapidly moved to keep track of what was going on. With her wings broken and no other means for a lift nearby, there was no possibility to reach up to her master standing and fighting on a platform and break through the commotion, no possibility to reconcile the two parties involved.

Her master had activated the Bridge to the Ether with scary determination despite her tries to explain, had ignored her reasoning and continued on in his feverish pursuit of returning to a place that no longer wanted either of them. The roaring of the Bridge only added to the overflow of noises the girl desperately tried to talk over—but the man was persistent in reaching his one and only goal.

Out of nowhere the resistance had finally managed to break through the remainder of the Tower’s defenses, surprising everyone present as the lightbulb clad in a deep black coat stormed in and wrestled her master to the floor. Even her friend had climbed up the platform, blonde wig clinging on for dear life as he tried to shut down the fight between two opposing sides; knowing that seeing the elderly man hurt would hurt her, too.

With a blast and a punch and a crack and a yelp the yellow light residing within the rebel flickered and a scream tore from the man, the girl left behind on the ground letting out a concerned scream of pure panic, her master’s name slipping from her lips.

“The Arca!” the man yelled through obvious pain as the little device fell, hitting the ground with a clang before sliding across the floor a fingertips length out of her reach, “Quick! Take it!”

The sound of bodies hitting the floor felt numb in her ears as she dived for the device, focus centering only around the little glove as her own body collided with the ground. Stones and debris tore into her skin and poked through her clothes as she fell, hand barely managing to grasp onto the object still carrying warmth from her master’s touch as she clung to it with closed eyes.

Out of nowhere lights were blasting all around, blinding the girl’s eyes as she was suddenly forced with a choice to make. The gentle, calming voice entering her mind said as much; telling her that the Arca—now united—would be too much energy for her to hold for longer than a couple of seconds. This left her to decide. Not being able to harness the power of the combined Arca, she could could either pass through the Bridge, taking her master with her as they headed back to their home world and left everyone behind to die, or crystallize immediately and without a chance for proper goodbyes, but ensuring the existence of the only home she had ever known.

She could barely make out the three battered bodies littering the floor as if they were hidden by a veil; the man laid on the ground, clearly struggling to hold himself up. Her friend kneeled on her other side, holding the remains of the person he had once known in his hands, cracked glass in the midst of hitting the floor yet suspended in mid-air. At this very instant time was frozen. The ancient being had halted the flow of time to give her the room and the time to make a decision meant to change life for everyone present.

Oh how she longed for a time caught deep in the past, if only to escape the current pressure forcing her to her knees. The two people most important in her life were surrounding her and despite being utterly still, she could clearly hear their voices in her mind.

“Anne,” they spoke, one voice clearly desperate, one unbelievably forgiving, “It’s your choice to make. It’s your outcome to choose.”

She knew, she knew. And that was the problem. How could she decide on something this big? Something impacting others to such great extent ? Their world against her life—this was an unfair choice to make, for she knew that her life could never match an entire world’s existence. Yet, still, apart from despising they thought of effectively dooming her master, she also didn’t want to _die_. She clung to life the way she had clung to the railing seconds before falling in her pursuit of the once-rebel and hunted like a criminal Fig, who had in no time grown to be the best friend she ever had. She clung to it like she was still clinging to the possibility of reaching Bonku, her dear master and father-figure, trying to make him understand the ways in which he had been wrong all his life.

A clinging left unfruitful for she fell both times. _Hard_. Forced to wake from a fantasy dream she had let herself be engulfed in, cuddled in a blanket of innocence and unknowingness. Of pure ignorance in a desire to not be confronted by the truth.

“My apologies,” the omniscient voice—now known as the Caretaker—spoke up, entering her mind like clear water flowing calmly from a crystal cave, “I am aware that this decision might be a difficult one to make.”

Anne balled her hands to fists, gritting her teeth to try and calm herself in a situation far beyond her control.

“It is!” she yelled, stomping her feet against the rubble with her head tilted up towards the sky, hoping to look anywhere near wherever the disembodied voice was coming from, “This is a choice I can’t make. I...I...” The air left her chest as she deflated, momentary anger leaving in a breath and making her drop her gaze to the floor in frustration, hesitation. “I- I don’t want to die.”

The Caretaker didn’t let the words surprise them.

“The choice is yours, but in this case you might wish to use the portal. Even though it will erase everything you have done here, you will still—“

“ _No_!” Anne’s voice interrupted the Caretaker, the stones and broken parts of machinery dug into her hand almost painfully but grounded her to reality, “No I can’t, I won’t destroy this world, but I- I don’t want to _leave_.” Her voice took on an almost pleading quality as she felt a tear slowly but steadily squeeze out of her eye. “I don’t want to leave this world behind, but I also don’t want to die. Caretaker, I want to stay.” In a sudden burst of understanding—of _purpose_ —Anne rose from the ground, gravel staying behind on the floor as if she had never even touched it. “Please, I beg of you to let me stay. I no longer want to return to a world if everyone I know and love is here. There is so much that needs to be done, so many mistakes necessary to be atoned for. I can’t just leave as if I’ve never played a role in creating these problems in the first place...”

The caretaker was quiet for a while. And with the caretaker quiet and the noises around her dead, only her thoughts kept her from turning insane by the utter lack of sound. When the spirit spoke up for another time, it did so with the tiniest hint of confusion lacing its tone.

“Is that what your heart desires?”

The question seemed familiar, terribly familiar, but Anne didn’t know where she had heard it before, couldn’t match her memories with her currents senses, Everything was simply jumbled in her head, a mess she didn’t have the time nor patience to sort through. Her head began nodding before the words had formed into a sentence. “Yes,” she spoke urgently, red lock falling into her face by the sudden force of her nod, “More than anything else.”

Her eyes strayed to the figures on the floor. _Bonku_ , her master, too focused on his goal to return as if possessed, eliminating any means to see the truth of the losses he had caused, the mess he had created. She couldn’t leave his—their—past mistakes to be figured out by someone else who had to overtake responsibility should both of them be gone. _Fig_ , her friend, the one she had hunted as a criminal and now trusted more than anyone else, who had saved her life not only by giving her back the Arca in time, but also by opening her eyes and showing her the truth she all along refused to see. With the remains of his much older friend and rival in his arms she couldn’t leave him behind, wanting to be there for him as much as he had been there for her trough these sudden trying times.

“I must warn you,” the calm voice began another time, slightly concerned and somewhat serious, even if only noticeable by the tiniest fraction of a change in tone, “Every wish on a scale as yours comes with a consequence. A consequence I cannot control, a consequence you most certainly will regret taking.” Anne didn’t bat an eye as the words sunk in. “Power as great as this always needs an equivalent to itself, to retain the balance. Thus I must ask you once more: Are you sure you wish to stay?”

The affirmation left her lips in nothing more than a whisper as it reached the spirit, transforming a word into a command that flooded her with warmth, with light, with love. Brightened her soul to a point making it hurt. And as the light engulfed her whole for just another time, the time around her began flowing once more, sounds reaching her ears. As the humming of the portal and a voice shouting her name rang in her head she understood;

She had finally found her purpose.


	2. Consequences?

“Anne?”

There was darkness keeping the world at bay; drowning her eyes in black and even blanketing her ears with its thickness. Even so, the desperation seeping from the voice could not possibly be kept from reaching her mind and twisting her guts with its intensity as all she could do was listen to broken sentences and broken words, dull pressure in her head making her unable to match it to anyone she knew. Everything spun too much, but even so the voice sounded familiar and made her feel safe.

“Anne—please. Please don’t— be dead.”

No no, she wasn’t dead, she couldn’t be. Could she? It was dark but she felt things even though she was still unable to move. She felt things and slowly but surely she could feel her arms and legs and toes and fingers respond to her weak commands.

“ _Anne_ ,” the voice continued, persistent. Desperate to hear a reply. But Anne was still trying to move her mouth, much less force her vocal chords to work. “Anne, please. Please don’t leave.”

And that was it. It was the one thing she hadn’t wanted to do and now it was the one thing that forced her eyes to open, forced her body to spring forward like a Jack in the box and as soon as she did there were arms around her, holding her up in a sitting position. Her eyes, still seeing everything as slightly blurred, managed to finally catch onto Fig’s desperate expression, eyes wide and frantic but eyebrows arching gratefully as he noted her to be alive.

“Fig,” she finally spoke up, moving her hand to relentlessly rub at her eyes, “Fig, I- What happened?” There was not much she could make out from her crumpled up position on the floor, perched into Fig’s arms. Most of her vision was overtaken by him and only faint hints of still rising smoke blurred whatever laid around the two of them. For a second she caught onto the splintered shards of Bulb’s remains and Anne wondered whether she was still capable of reviving him. Of reviving anybody. Something told her this wasn’t the case.

Eyes moving back to Fig she noted a smile on his face. It was weak, somewhat sad and terribly desperate, and she tried for a weak smile back in exhausted response before he spoke. “Anne,” he said, eyes straying for a moment to rest on something behind her and she couldn’t help but notice the hesitation in his voice, watching the grin fall from his face, “Anne, why are you still here?”

A question with the potential to be taken in a multitude of directions. Why had she not crossed the Bridge to get to the Ether, fulfilling what she had always—until very recently—believed to be her most desired wish? Why was she still alive, not having crystallized as she had been told she would if she were to not go through with it? Why was it only either death or departure that had seemed to be waiting for her, if all she wanted was to stay and repent for the mistakes she had made?

Vaguely she remembered a voice speaking to her, remembered talking about what her heart desired most, talking about a price. The memories of what had happened after she had accepted the Caretaker’s offer were there, she knew it—she felt them. But it appeared as if they were hidden away by a thick wall layered of cotton, veiling knowledge she desired which refused to be discovered. She grit her teeth and clamped her eyes shut as a sudden headache overcame her, moving a hand to press the palm into her eye as the pain caused stars to dance around her vision.

“I’m not sure,” she answered quietly, feeling surprisingly uncomfortable in the darkness behind her eyelids, but accepting the momentary escape of the blinding lights, “I can’t really remember, it’s all so—“ she moved her hands away, cautiously peaking through the gaps of her fingers and into the light at the concerned frown on Fig’s face— “Blurred. Contorted...I don’t know.”

The hand on her back moved ever so slightly in a comforting gesture and she couldn’t help but deflate and sink into the touch. After these last few days she surely needed some rest, some time to think and come to terms with how the situation had changed for her. For Fig. For Bonku—

“ _Bonku_?” The exclamation flew past her lips as her eyes widened in tandem, mouth wide open as she instinctively pushed back against Fig’s grip to properly look around. His grip only tightened ever so slightly.

“Anne, listen—“

“No, Fig, wait,” she interrupted, slightly frantic, “I know he’s done terrible things but I’ve known him all my life, I need to see if he’s okay, I—“ Swallowing the lump caught in her throat and still sorting through everything that had happened in only a few days time, she didn’t notice Fig trying to softly get her attention all throughout her rambling— “He’s like a father to me, he raised me after I arrived in this world. Without him I would have long since been dead, you know that, I can’t give up on him, so I— _What_?”

His eyes pierced her with a sadness that seemed to drip of every ounce of his being, tied fiercely within his anima itself. It was so intense she quieted.

“Anne,” he spoke at last, “Bonku, he’s—“

No more words needed to be said. With an ungracious stumble she freed herself from her friend’s well-meaning grasp despite his hesitation to let go, turned only to lay her eyes on an immovable figure. An immovable figure enclosed in a gigantic, green-blue crystal. It’s shiny surface weakly reflected the light of a few flashing buttons, helping in distracting from the figure clearly resting inside, hand stretched out towards where Anne had been sitting while the other supported him on the ground. Anne didn’t want to look, didn’t want to accept the fact that Bonku was indeed gone. Despite her mind struggling to keep up, her hand moved by itself as it rested against the crystal’s glassy structure, swallowing a choked sob and letting her hands immediately retreat to cup her mouth in horror.

“He crystallized,” she said as if only to confirm it to herself, voice barely above a whisper and even less audible through her palms still firmly pressed to her mouth, “He crystallized, why- what happened, why is he...”

She felt Fig’s hand reassuringly rest on her shoulder, but didn’t have it in her to turn and look, face still grim and directed at what had once been the only family she had ever known, now lying motionless and gone on the ground. For some reason she had never imagined this to happen, had never imagined an end for the both of them. Only recently had she been faced with her own surprising mortality, rebels having taken ahold of her Arca leaving her to slowly crystallize, but she had _never_ imagined for this to happen to Bonku—Even if it was a logical conclusion. He was just...always there. And somehow she had assumed he would always be.

“It happened while you were unconscious.” Fig’s voice was so soft and quiet, hadn’t it been for the blood-freezing silence of their surroundings his words would have certainly gone unheard. “After they fell, Bonku and Bulb, they—“ It was hard on him too, Anne was aware— “As soon as you took the Arca, you collapsed. I tried to wake you while Bonku, he—he crystallized in seconds. I couldn’t do anything.”

Silence once more took ahold of the two only people left alive after their fight for freedom, for the existence of this world. Anne’s hand reached out to gently stroke against the crystal, tears pricking at her eyes before tumbling down her cheeks. Her sobs were wet, loud, messy. The entire atmosphere felt charged with power as she cowered on the floor among the rubble and debris, hands moving to cover her eyes. The entire time she cried, Fig didn’t say a word. He only sat by her, letting her grieve in piece and letting her know by the soft touch on her shoulder that he would never abandon her.

Hours seemed to tick by endlessly before Anne’s sobs ebbed away, hearing a multitude of steps hurrying up the stairs. Her hands began wiping at her face, trying to ease the remnants of her obvious grief and putting on a mask of seeming composure before facing the freedom fighters to explain what happened—even though she wasn’t quite sure herself.

Jinx and Dilly were running up at the front, the little voodoo doll having taken one of the needles out of her body ready for a fight and the red scarf looked frightened at best, yet oddly determined, glasses slightly askew. Luckily Bulb had created a path for them to break through. The shattered remains of his body were still littering the floor and were the first thing the two Forgotlings noticed upon their arrival.

Anne could feel everyone’s eyes on her, burning through her body. Everyone’s eyes boring into her waiting for her next action. Everyone’s eyes but Fig’s, who gently helped in heaving her up from the floor, leaving his hand on her shoulder as a gentle reminder. A sign that she wasn’t alone.

Closing her eyes she focused on the Arca, waiting to feel the flow of Anima as she had done all her life. Waiting to feel the telltale sign of sparks of energy rushing through her even when she wasn’t instilling or distilling anyone—there was always a remnant of forgotten anima running through her upon consciously activating the little device resting on her hand.

Apparently though, her wait was for naught.

Her ‘anima vision’ as she had liked to call it didn’t work. Nothing came. No anima, no traces of energy whatsoever. Only now did she notice how eerily empty it felt to not sense any anima whatsoever, now that it was gone. Carefully opening her eyes back up, she looked into a multitude of faces staring at her, waiting for her to revive their fallen leader.

But Anne had completely lost the ability to instill or distill anyone.

It seemed her astounded and slightly horrified expression spoke for itself, because Fig only gave her a glance before immediately changing the subject. Yet while he conversed with the freedom fighters, reassuming his role as the—now sole—leader of an organization that probably was soon to disband now that there was no enemy to fight against, Anne felt herself trapped in her mind. Not only was Bonku gone, the one person that had organized the entire life in this world ever since Anne could think, the one person who she had loved like a father—but she had also lost the one gift he had given her. Sure, her hand was still clad by the device, and she assumed that the Arca itself was still keeping her alive somehow, for she would have otherwise long since been a crystal as well, but the abilities she had been gifted with were lost.

Anne should be glad in a way, she thought. Earlier she had been certain that no one should hold such an ability in their possession. But now that Bulb was lying distilled on the floor, gone long before his time, she couldn’t help but feel terrible for not being able to revive him. After all, she had played a role in how the Forgotlings had suffered for years on end, ever since she had been given the title of the Enforcer. Back then Anne had believed it to be an honor, now she knew it had only been a burden.

Amidst his speech she carefully bend down, picking up her master’s glove that she had lost in her grief. It clearly held no more powers for it felt cold as ice, devoid of any traces of energy as much as hers did. Still, she opened up the little bag she carried and gently placed it inside, a little reminder of Bonku and a reminder for his legacy that she now had to repent for. Fig had been right, she hadn’t needed to pass through to the Ether to figure out her purpose—she had already found it in her opened eyes staring at the atrocities that had been committed over years of suffering and slavery and death.

The disembodied voice—the Caretaker—had talked about a price to pay, something inside Anne’s mind screamed restlessly. Looking at the glassy translucent crystal surrounding her master and feeling the tears well up again she was sure there couldn’t have been a worse one to pay than the life of someone you love, while you remained alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I know what I’m doing?  
> ...No. Probably not.  
> I guess I’m setting the mood or something though ;D
> 
> I’m too tired to check this for mistakes again, sorry!!! (It’s 5 am, help!)


	3. Not So Hidden Hideout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne’s and Fig’s (and every other present Forgotling’s) way from the Tower to the Hideout.

The trip down the Tower took much longer than expected. Anne’s every move was sluggish, overwhelmed with an obvious heavy burden and the crushing weight of survivor’s guilt and Fig had more than once offered to carry her. She had declined—he knew she would—but with Bulb gone he was now their sole leader, and the masses of forgotlings that had arrived for their support against Bonku demanded someone to follow. No matter how often they would deny their need for such when asked. And with his role as the leader pushing him onward, he needed to set the pace all the while making sure Anne didn’t fall behind.

Glancing to the girl walking by his side he had trouble even catching her attention, eyes cast down to the floor, red hair hiding them in messy strands while her hand almost anxiously picked at the glove. The Arca. The one reason she was still alive. Or so he assumed. Because what other way was there to remain alive without the Arca’s help?

A few Forgotlings had taken over the duty of carrying Bonku and Bulb down with them, to give them a proper farewell. It was obvious that most of them were hesitant in doing such an honorable thing for the one man they had vowed to take down in the first place, but following Fig’s glance to Anne, former Enforcer by many deemed utterly dangerous momentarily left without any spirit within her, they followed his wish. As such they were soon standing in a little secluded part of the Towergrounds, collectively standing a bit farther away from Anne standing right next to the crystallized Bonku, still as a statue, raindrops catching in her hair and rolling down her face. Only Fig remained by her side, as he had always assured her he would.

Following her path down her once-home now looking grim and gloom, she had proceeded to hide her pain behind a mask devoid of any emotion. A mask Fig could clearly look through; look through to see the broken, disturbed and mourning girl he had come to know. Though Anne was nothing like back when they had met, when she had fallen from the ceiling having crawled through the pipes radiating a righteous and determined perseverance at the thought of finally catching him.

She was nothing like that right _now_ and he understood.

Thunder clouds rolled up ahead and the wind gradually picked up, rain soaking the freedom fighters waiting for Anne and or Fig to finally initiate their departure. And with the first strike of lightning coming down after a while, immersing the dark around them in a bright white, Anne finally turned and started walking. She passed Fig and the rest waiting more or less patiently behind, before Fig gave the signal for their leave and caught up with her. Their steps immediately fell into pattern as if they had known each other all their lives and Fig truly wished that this had been the case. They met at such an uncertain turning point in her life; he was the reason her entire life got flipped upside down. It would have been a gift to have known her back when she was younger, perhaps he could have gradually informed her about what he had discovered through working at the Plant, instead of quite literally ripping the rug out from beneath her feet.

But this was no time to dwell on the past, he thought, opening the gate to let her pass through in silence. This was a time to work on the future.

——————

Entering the former rebel’s hideout still managed to overwhelm her. The destruction that Bonku had left behind when he tore through this place in search of her was a nightmare she wouldn’t have endured seeing upfront and in person—having vividly heard about it through questioning Fig was terrible enough. She could see it in her mind’s eye; the Forgotlings trying to fight for their right to live while Bonku took their anima, distilled them like the useless things he had always thought they were. And thinking about how there may have once been a point in her life in which she absolutely wouldn’t have minded seeing all these Forgotlings distilled scared her even more.

The green crystals reflected stray rays of light as it cast shadows around them and Anne suddenly realized how much work needed to be done, even though she wasn’t sure where exactly to start. The entire place was a wreck; fabric torn from the walls, debris littering the ground to an extent she needed to pay attention to not stumble over it as she walked.

“Anne,” Fig suddenly spoke, bringing her back from the deepest corners of her mind, “You need rest. You can sleep at my place.” The hand on her shoulder giving her a light nudge into the right direction set her gears in motion as she finally turned to look him in the eye, almost feeling how weak she must have currently looked. But Fig didn’t mind. He just gave her a reassuring smile, a final pat on her back before she gave a nod and stumbled onwards into his home.

Casting aside what was left of a thin, green curtain to protect the entrance, Anne tried not to think about the last time she had been at his place. Back when she had first seen how Bonku had wrecked havoc and Blanket was still alive. She tried not to think about the last talk she had with Blanket, about the Ether. But Anne also couldn’t stop her thoughts straying to think about what the Forgotling might have thought, had she still been alive. But alas, her time had already come and now Anne’s own mortality was burned like a constant reminder into the back of her head. And as she gently laid herself down to sleep in Fig’s bed, she couldn’t help but wonder just how far her friend was from dying. Couldn’t help but wonder, how long Forgotlings even had to live and how much time he had left of it. Now that Bonku was gone and even Blanket and Tink were gone, she couldn’t stand to lose him too.

With these thoughts the last in her mind she fell into a deep, vivid sleep.

——————

Colors. A lot of them, but mostly green, blue and red. Some yellow obscured her view along with beige. All of them flashed through her mind in rapid succession as she jolted awake, hands buried tightly in the sheets while her breathing was loud enough to even tear through the thoughts screaming in her head. Her heart seemed to hammer against her ribcage like crazy and in a futile attempt to calm it she moved a hand to rest above it, trying to focus on every inhale and every exhale of her lungs.

“Anne?” The voice barely made it through to her, and as she didn’t respond she heard the owner shuffle closer, heard the voice draw nearer. “Anne, talk to me, are you alright?” Through a vision still blurred by the remnants of sleep she barely made out the concerned face of Fig, only felt the bed dip ever so slightly as he sat down to rest beside her. Waiting for her to reply, his hand moved cautiously to rest atop the one of hers still wrestled into the bedsheets, clammy with sweat caused by night terrors.

“A nightmare,” she practically panted, having yet to calm down enough to catch her breath, “It was just a nightmare.”

His voice was soft as he replied, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Anne simply shook her head in response, perhaps a bit too intense to pass it off as a mere nuisance she was surely to get over. Fig didn’t look too convinced but also didn’t press any further. “I can’t really remember anyways,” she waved him off, hands tightening to fists before she rose, patting her dress in an attempt to smooth it down. Yet the wrinkles stubbornly persisted.

“I guess there’s quite a few things that need to be done?” she continued, hesitantly turning around to glance at him, watching him rise from his bed as if he was still contemplating just how fine she actually was. So she plastered a smile on, making sure to lightly soften her eyes as well to not make him too suspicious. “Since you’re the leader I’m going to follow your lead. What should I do?”

For now it seemed to work enough as a distraction to make him let go. But maybe that was because there was actually quite a long list of things that needed to be figured out, forcing Anne’s personal feelings to retreat to the backseat as she tried to repent first, deal with the storm in her head later. No matter how much she wished to hide herself away at this very moment, burying her body under the blankets and waiting until she wouldn’t feel that miserable anymore. Yet apparently she couldn’t even sleep without waking bathed in sweat, so going out was possibly the best possible distraction.

“Right,” he spoke the word slowly, trying for a grin as well, “I arranged a meeting with the freedom fighters in about an hour. We will also commemorate Bulb together. But...there are some things I have yet to organize so you can just...rest a bit more until then. Is that alright?”

Somehow Anne felt seconds away from protesting, wishing not, under any circumstances, to be separated from him. From the only friend she knew she had left as she was stranded in a world that possibly still held a large grudge against her. Not that she could blame them. Her mouth though had other ideas than her brain.

“Yes, of course,” she said, voice sounding somewhat eerily hollow to her, “Go ahead.”

“Alright,” he replied, “I’ll await you in the memorial. Until later, Anne.”

Hand frozen still gripping onto her dress she watched him go, disappearing through the half torn-down entrance and into the rubble beyond. And with him gone the empty feeling returned. And the thoughts returned. Not wishing to indulge in them another time and yearning for distraction, she left the little home as well.

Her feet made quiet noises on the broken pavement, water splashing out of a puddle as she jumped over a fraction that had been completely destroyed and was left with a gaping hole. No matter where she went, the crystals never left her side. And with them the fear of losing anyone else soon. Back when she hadn’t cared, distilling had been a natural conclusion to a Forgotling’s misbehavior. With consequences that she had never thought about. Then, when she started caring, she felt safe knowing that she could revive whoever died, to simply instill them once more. But now...?

“Hey, girl!” a voice called over and by the tone she knew immediately who it was. Not soon after, someone else chastised her in a quiet, timid voice, making the first one utter a dramatic noise of understanding. “Ah, sorry. Hey _Anne_ ,” she tried anew, and Anne could only let out a slim smile at their jests. The little voodoo doll was perched on a broken off piece from the stairs that had once led down to the sea, back to where she had left the boat after she had arrived having just helped in destroying the Plant. Dilly stayed on the ground, glasses half sunken beneath the heaps of red fabric.

“Anne, how are you feeli—“ his sentence was interrupted as Jinx hadjumped down, lightly hitting him in a way that made his round glasses partially slip from where they were positioned.

“Wrong question,” she hissed lowly, but Anne heard it anyways. “Sorry, what he meant to say was ‘Where are you headed?’,” Jinx said, louder this time, still eyeing Dilly sideways who adjusted his glasses.

“Nowhere specific,” came Anne’s reply, “I just wanted to wait outside until the meeting.”

The grin on Jinx’ face stretched almost comically as she lifted her head, staring at Anne with a somewhat mischievous expression making Dilly’s glasses sink further into his scarf.

“Great!” The red buttons making her eyes almost seemed to glow. “Then how about you come along with us for a bit? We ought to head to the memorial later anyway, we could pass some time while we wait.”

Dilly seemed to be caught between objecting and actually liking the idea—Anne decided that he was simply nervous—and Anne didn’t find it in her to object. After all that happened, alone time made red alarms flash over her head and somehow all she wanted was some company. The two Forgotlings had never really seemed to hold a grudge against her, considering Anne had let Dilly escape when he had broken into the Tower and had further revived Jinx after Bonku had distilled her.

So she nodded along, catching Dilly lightly deflate as parts of tension left his body and watching Jinx’ grin stretch further while her steps echoed through the underground hideout as they walked along the cobbled streets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really like Jinx and Dilly, I don’t think I have an explanation for this...
> 
> It’s kinda weird, when there’s barely any content it makes writing side characters simultaneously much easier and more difficult.  
> On one hand I’m free to do whatever, because what proof does anyone have to judge me, but on the other, the possibility of them not being perfectly in character are too high for me to ignore...
> 
> (I should sleep, it’s 3 am, I gotta wake up in four hours, oops!)


	4. Echoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulb’s commemoration.

Jinx’ and Dilly’s ‘Welcome-tour’ as they had put it, managed to actually twist Anne’s frown upwards into a tiny smile. Every now and then Dilly asked a few cautious questions obviously trying to make small-talk—something Anne decided he really wasn’t that good at. So for the most part she led the conversation while Dilly followed along, Jinx throwing in a word or two whenever she felt she had something to add.

“Dilly was actually terrified of you,” Jinx casually said amidst a little pause in conversation and Anne felt Dilly visibly tense up, red fabric swallowing his glasses, “When he got the mission and heard he was to infiltrate the Tower to look for weaknesses in defense, I saw him trembling.” However Dilly managed to portray any expression, it clearly read as a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. Jinx laughed at her own jest. “Relax,” she spoke, arms moving up in a placating gesture even though Dilly didn’t seem like the type to immediately resort to violence—Anne clearly remembered him only picking up a weapon when he thought he was to be distilled, “I was joking. After all, I’m sure half of all Forgotlings would’ve been shaking in their boots when faced with the Enforcer.”

Anne decided to play along. “And you?” she asked, a pebble tumbling down the half-broken down flight of stairs as they walked past, “How would you have reacted?”

Jinx’ grin told tales by itself. “I wouldn’t have really cared to be honest. I told you once, didn’t I? It’s all easy. I would’ve seen it once it happened. Once we faced each other.” The memorial was now almost in sight, voices from other Forgotlings beginning to mix in with their conversation making Anne focus more on Jinx’ words. “As it was, I met you for the first time when you collapsed and I helped you up. So there you have it.”

Anne couldn’t help the grin that spread once she thought more about the little voodoo doll’s world view. It was so simplistic it was refreshing. The complete opposite of what she had been taught all her life, of the rules and regulations that had been pumped into her head ever since she had been a child.

Pushing through the entrance of the memorial she immediately felt herself swallowed up by the crowds of Forgotlings that had gathered to mourn their former leader, just like they had done when Fig had been distilled. Anne felt a shudder run down her spine as she couldn’t help but remember him lying there for everyone to see, immovable and lifeless. Now there was a broken lightbulb resting on a black coat, few glass shards missing and some resting next to what had once been his head. In a way it was terribly morbid.

“Dear fellow Forgotlings, thank you for coming,” a familiar voice echoed through the cave, sound bouncing off the walls and blue-green crystals that had been carried to the memorial for their eternal rest. They should definitely arrange for a bigger memorial after all that had happened, and considering all the crystallizations that have yet to happen—Anne almost gripped onto her dress to tear the image out of her mind. “Today we have found ourselves here to commemorate our former leader and friend, Bulb.”

Following the sound of his voice Fig stepped down from the upper entrance which was mostly out of reach for everyone present, brown boots hitting the floor with a resounding echo as he walked up to where his old friend laid on a table. His expression turned lightly grim as he gazed down at Bulb, no doubt reminiscing the last time he had seen him alive and well.

“Our former leader has fallen in battle; bravely facing off against Bonku to give us more time. It is thanks to him that the worst has been prevented.”

For a moment all Forgotlings turned absolutely quiet and Anne realized that they were giving him a minute of silence, of grieving. A minute in which everyone most likely reminisced about what they had gone through with their leader, how he had helped them through tough times and promised them a place freed from Bonku’s rule. Anne had no such memories to dwell in, but...

“I—“ without having truly thought about what to do next, Anne stepped forward, out of the safety of the crowd and into the open— “I’d like to say a few words, too.” It was safe to say that about everyone present was staring at her, intensity enough to make her wish to retreat even though she was mostly resistent whenever it was about other’s attention. She guessed it came from being appointed Enforcer ever since the age of 10 and having to make difficult decisions early on that she now realized had come with grave consequences.

The encouraging smile on Fig’s face immediately warmed her heart and alleviated her sudden nervousness. “Then come up here, Anne,” he spoke, holding a hand out as if for her to take, even though she was quite far away. She appreciated the gesture as she stepped up to stand next to him.

Swallowing her nerves she spoke, staring straight ahead at the masses waiting for her words, “It’s true, Bulb has fallen fighting against my mas—“ She interrupted herself, hands momentarily tightening to fists and feeling the soft fabric of her glove against her fingertips— “ _Bonku_ ,” she corrected herself, “Without his intervention, we would most likely all be gone.” _Or me,_ she thought. _Either them or me._ “If Bonku had managed to use the Arca to cross the Bridge to the Ether, we would have all been gone. This entire world would have been destroyed. The Caretaker told me so.”

Turning her head slightly to the side she caught Fig staring at her from the corner of her eyes, a somewhat proud expression resting in his eyes. In his arched eyebrows. In his tiny smile.

“I just want to say...thank you. Thank you to Bulb for keeping the worst from happening.” _Thank you for doing what I couldn’t have done, thank you for sacrificing yourself._ “And thanks to all of you who played a part in this.”

A hand on her back made her look up, realizing she had been staring at the floor as soon as she had finished, caught in her mind. The small circle Fig rubbed against her clothes made her relax in spite of the rising commotion.

“She’s the Enforcer though, huh? She already instilled Fig, even instilled Jinx and Broom and many others. Why can’t she instill Bulb?” The question thrown from somewhere within the assembled crowd wasn’t even directed at her, but at Fig. Forgotlings began talking all among each other in a whirlwind of voices and for a moment Fig’s calming movements stilled, before he removed his hand from Anne’s back entirely and took a step forwards, almost protectively in front of Anne to answer.

“Because she can’t,” he spoke, as if Anne had actually told him what was going on, what had been going on in her mind. Told him about the tangled mess that were her thoughts, screaming restlessly with a strength threatening to drown out her own inner voice and keeping her awake at night or emerging her in the deepest nightmares. “The caretaker took this ability from her. She can now neither instill nor distill us.”

The commotion rose to a crescendo as the Forgotlings began to discuss this development. Bits of words and phrases reached hear ears; from ‘It was about time’ and ‘Serves her right’ to ‘What a loss’ most likely uttered in remembrance of Bulb and, per chance, a few other distilled Forgotlings resting somewhere outside on the streets.

“Hey! Attention please,” Fig’s voice drowned out the masses as he spoke into the vastness of the cave, “Yes, it’s true. Her ability was taken. Now, you should no longer see her as the Enforcer—“ he turned to gaze at her with a smile— “But as Anne. As a fellow Forgotling and as a friend. She will live with us—if she wishes to—and will help me in organizing all of our lives. With Bonku and the Plant gone we will need to find a new purpose, as well as think of a new and better future to work towards. We will need a new and improved system that doesn’t take from our freedom, but instead supports us in living life the way we have always wanted; not as what we were _made_ to be, but instead as what we _could_ be.”

Listening intently to his words the Forgotlings calmed. He was right, they knew that, even though most of them wanted to object to the need of a system. Nothing can persist without order, Anne knew. And if Fig was willing to accept her help in building something new, she was ready to do so.

——————

The day had been a long one. An exhausting one. Anne felt bad as she collapsed on Fig’s bed, even though he had reassured her that he didn’t mind. “We will collect your things tomorrow if you want,” he had said, “Then we will set up a place for you to permanently stay in.” And that sounded nice, calming. Even though Anne, for the longest time, hadn’t wanted to leave the Tower Grounds, now she had trouble accepting the thought of returning—even if just to get her belongings. The place she had once called a home now carried an eerie atmosphere hellbent on dragging her down from any kind of happiness that might have been running through her veins, keeping her from giving in to the trauma that was seeing her father figure laying crystallized to her feet.

Even though she was in an underground hideout filled with Forgotlings that were now looking for a purpose after they had secured the existence of their world, she felt terribly alone. She was tired, but she just couldn’t sleep. Because every time she closed her eyes, the darkness felt overwhelming and her thoughts outgrew the limitations of her head. And thus, before she could have even entertained the thought of falling asleep, she rose and moved out through the curtains signaling the entrance to Fig’s home. Stepping outside she noted that the rain—for once—had stopped. The darkness of the night felt less threatening while she was outside beneath the stars glowing amidst the firmament and she took a deep breath trying to calm down.

Mere days ago she had been the Enforcer. A force not to be meddled with. A person who’s mere name made Forgotlings tremble and fear for their existence. Now here she was, stripped of her power and saddled with a new purpose, but her troubling and loud mind kept drowning out whatever plans she was about to create to help Fig in creating a new system. Anne had been thinking about it. A lot. But every now and then the mere sight of a crystal made her remember what had happened, what she had failed to do. She had been given the choice to either act for herself, saving Bonku with her but dooming an entire world or sacrificing herself and her master to make sure they’d all be alive and well. But she couldn’t let go and now here she was, struggling to cope with how her life had changed.

With a deep exhale she slumped over against the metal railing, mindful to not make the mistake of trusting a much too worn down and rotten structure again and risk falling down from quite a height. The coolness of the material soothed her scalding skin as she was once more reminded of the troubles that roamed her brain.

“Anne?” Something within her sprung to life at the sound of his voice, fears momentarily forgotten as she turned towards Fig slowly walking towards her. “Anne are you alright? What are you doing outside?”

Anne bit her lip thinking of an answer, but remembering her last conversation with Tink she opted to tell the truth. “I can’t sleep,” she spoke, voice quiet as she once more looked past the railing, gazing at the carnage below, “And I don’t think I want to be alone.” It felt difficult, simply to utter the words. To actually lay bare what she was feeling.

After all this time she had spent acting without a remorse, it now all came back to haunt her, and she didn’t quite know how to deal with it. And Fig had already seen her in her weakest state, after they had destroyed the Plant together, fell from the roof and left Anne’s wings behind broken and useless. And afterwards, when the decision to stay and repent had been made and Bonku had been—

Gazing beside her she caught him looking at her, watching her struggle while his face screamed of empathy and sorrow. She gripped the railing even tighter.

“I understand,” the words were spoken quietly, softly, and Anne was torn between continuing to look at him and looking across the destruction of the rebel’s hideout instead, “Do you want me to stay?”

For a moment Anne simply closed her eyes. But even so, the pictures came back, flooding her, drowning her, and so she immediately opened them right back up. Her voice was only a silent whisper as she replied,

“Yes, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew my inspiration would leave me wayyyy too quickly!  
> This is a chapter I wrote back when I started writing this. I have one more that I need to heavily edit first? But I plan to only upload it when I have the next one after that written too!
> 
> So, uh, wish me inspiration? D:
> 
> Also, hello everyone who reads this! The game is amazing and I love it still! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah uh so, hope you like it? Wish me strength to continue! Leave kudos and a comment if you’d like, it would make my day!! <3


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